Mirkwood Lost
by Black Lothlorien
Summary: After a quick ride out to the edge of Lothlorien while they rest, Legolas and the rest of his party is attacked by some of the first Uruk-Hai. Legolas is captured and the others need to rescue him from the Tower of Orthanc. Or has Legolas been swayed?
1. Captured!

Mirkwood Lost  
  
By Lothlórien  
  
Legolas dove under the Uruk-Hai's blade, wishing fervently that he had his bow, or long-knives. But they had been taken by surprise, and his weapons lay forgotten under the body of four dead Uruk-Hai.  
  
All that he could use to defend himself was the single long-knife that Haldir had spared him.  
  
At first, he had cursed himself for being caught off guard. His light blue tunic and light pants were not suitable for fighting the terrible Uruk-Hai. At least his boots didn't betray his step.  
  
Now, he wondered if they were still within the boundaries of the Golden Wood. If there were Uruk-Hai in Lothlórien, it boded evil for the elves and the Fellowship.  
  
Of the other elves, he stood alone with his long-knife. The others shot arrows and bowstrings sang while the prince of Mirkwood fought with a blade.  
  
"Haldir!" Legolas saw the Uruk-Hai snatch the elf's wrist. The menacing creature threw the fair guard against a tree, effectively knocking the bow from his numbed fingers.  
  
Legolas' long-knife flew through the air, catching the attacking Uruk-Hai in the throat. But now he was defenseless.  
  
Haldir struggled to his feet, "Back to the boundary! We must have left the Wood early! Back all!"  
  
Legolas quickly noted who was here. They were all there, save for…they were missing one, and none had been killed in the attack. Where was the fifth of their group?  
  
"Help me!" The cry came from an elf, cornered against a thrice group of Uruk-Hai. He was not frightened, but he called for any help that might come. Legolas turned to help, snatching up his fallen long-knife.  
  
The first of the Uruk-Hai spun and threw his own plank-like sword at the would-be rescuer. Legolas threw his blade at the same time, planning to strike the orc-like demon and still have time to dodge the sword.  
  
The two blades met. The thickness of the Uruk-Hai sword prevented it from being cleaved, but the fine elven metal of Haldir's long-knife split a large notch in the side.  
  
"Legolas, no!" Haldir cried after him, afraid for what might happen to the prince while under his care.  
  
The fair elf paid no heed. Even as the two enmeshed blades fell to the ground, he had snatched up an elven bow and two arrows, one Uruk-Hai, and one elven.  
  
The cornered elf cried out in pain as a heavy fist came down on his shoulder. He was able to snatch up his own bow, though he had no arrows. Legolas shot at two attackers.  
  
"Go!"  
  
The elf headed his command and ran, disappearing quickly into the trees, after Haldir and the others. Legolas turned to follow.  
  
Then a familiar, unearthly scream tore the already spoiled morning air. A Black Rider stepped down from his demon steed, his sword in hand. He spoke, and his voice was foul and evil.  
  
"Prince of Mirkwood," He hissed, pulling his sword back, ready to strike, "Isengard awaits you."  
  
"What would Saruman want with me?" Legolas demanded, "You do not serve him."  
  
"Aaaaaiiiiiiiii!" The Black Rider screamed, but the attack didn't come from the Nazgûl or his horse. The forgotten Uruk-Hai survivor, one in number, took up a fallen elven bow and shot the same arrow that Legolas had used to kill one of his companions.  
  
The Mirkwood prince's cry of pain cut off the Black Rider's screech. Legolas' face contorted in agony as the straight and true elven arrow pierced his back. As he fell to his knees, the Black Rider shimmered.  
  
It was Saruman.  
  
"You don't think that I would not know where your pitiful group would go to hide?" The white robed man taunted, his staff glittering in the dim, filtered light, "I am not senile, like that idiot, Gandalf."  
  
Legolas meant not to answer, so he stayed his tongue. All that he did was clutch his chest tightly, in an effort to halt the pain, and keep his eyes on the ground, away from Saruman's.  
  
"You are coming with me, friend elf," Saruman taunted, "For I am in need of your services."  
  
Legolas' cry of pain as the arrow was torn out of his back echoed through the trees.  
  
"Lord Celeborn! Lady Galadriel!" The elf whose life Legolas had saved, named Ceresin, ran into the council chamber where the Lord, Lady, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli were speaking of their belated return.  
  
"Ceresin, what has happened?" Celeborn demanded, standing.  
  
Lady Galadriel stood as well, her lips parting in alarm, "He has been taken from us, to Isengard."  
  
"My lady," Ceresin bowed, "Haldir has returned in order to find him, but told me to return to you."  
  
"Go and rest, Ceresin, have your wounds treated," Celeborn dismissed him, then turned to Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli. Aragorn stood.  
  
"We must retrieve him," He stated, leaning on his fist, "The Quest must be delayed."  
  
"Aragorn, what would Saruman want with the elf?" Boromir asked, tapping his fingers on the white marble council table.  
  
"What is running through your mind, Son of Gondor?" Gimli inquired of him, readjusting his short, muscular build to look at the warrior, "Do you know something that we do not?"  
  
"No, I was merely wondering," Boromir leaned back, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
Galadriel spoke, interrupting them with her musical Noldorin voice.  
  
"Saruman would have many a motive for capturing the Son of Thranduil," She sat back in her chair, "One of which reasons could possibly be a trap for the elves of Mirkwood."  
  
"What would that gain him?" Aragorn asked, glancing at Boromir.  
  
"If he moved south to join Sauron in Mordor, he would have the armies of Mirkwood to contend with at his back," Galadriel sighed. Her voice was shaky, "If he took Legolas and convinced his father to stay his armies for fear of his death, he would be free to enter Mordor and march straight to Barad-Dûr."  
  
This revelation was driven straight to the hearts of all those present. Gimli grunted and tapped a thick finger on the table. He seemed to be thinking hard.  
  
"What in blazes were Uruk-Hai doing in Lothlorien?" He suddenly slammed his fist on the table, "And what was the elf doing away from the rest of the Fellowship anyway?"  
  
"Legolas confided in me a few days ago," Celeborn returned to seat as well, "We are kin, and he felt it necessary to speak to me of his longing for home. I offered a chance to ride to the edge of Lothlorien and back with a small group of elves at his side."  
  
"He was homesick?" Aragorn seemed surprised, "Why did he not speak to us of this?"  
  
"Of that I do not know," Celeborn shook his head, "Before he left, I felt that he would be in danger if he left, but I had already begun to see the wear of stagnancy that had begun to affect his heart. He had never been one to rest when there was work to be done."  
  
"I also asked him to go," Galadriel shook her head, "He needed to ride, for his own sake. I gave him a small pendant to wear in case of need. He must not have remembered it, for I did not feel its call."  
  
"So there would be a way to find him…when we enter Isengard?" Boromir stated, not meeting the surprised gazes of Aragorn and Gimli. They had noticed his use of the word, 'when.'  
  
"Yes," She stated simply, "But you must hurry, if you plan to rescue him in sound body. I fear for his spirit, as well as his physical body. I felt the pain he received at the end of the elven arrow."  
  
"So he could be dying now," Aragorn stated grimly, "And we are here, speaking. Words will not save my friend, only action."  
  
"Then go you must, with a pair of elven guards to accompany you," Celeborn stood quietly and made his way to one of the elegant windows, "When he returns, Haldir will accompany you, as well as one whom I would trust with my life."  
  
"And who would that be, Lord Celeborn?" Boromir seemed uneasy about this whole adventure, and did not jump to volunteer anything or anyone.  
  
"Celephel, an elf woman who had traveled to whole of Middle Earth and is as old as I," Celeborn sighed, "She is of my close kin and would lead you wherever you wanted to go."  
  
"Gah, she wouldn't survive a minute in Moria," Gimli stood and clomped over to Aragorn's side.  
  
"She has been in Moria, only once, for that was when the Orcs attacked Balin and his colony," A strange voice, one that bespoke of experience, yet childlike personality, wafted through the room as an elven woman followed a tired Haldir through the door.  
  
"Celephel," Celeborn greeted his kin with a gentle hand-touch.  
  
"My Lord Celeborn," She nodded, "Moria is a black place, and I never wish to go there again, even if Mithrandir has destroyed the Balrog."  
  
At the mention of Gandalf's elven name, the faces of all present fell.  
  
"Haldir, news of the attack," Celeborn prompted the troubled elf.  
  
"I have recovered Legolas' bow and long-knives," He held the weapons in his arms, "The stink of evil magic is accompanied by the smell of elven blood."  
  
Galadriel sucked in a breath, and Celephel, her light robes rustling like the leaves, stood by her side. They seemed to exchange a silent conversation.  
  
"I will take you to Isengard," Celephel nodded, her face troubled, "Though that place is evil and I do not enjoy the chance of seeing the tower again. Memories of that place are black."  
  
"Come in, Merry, Pippin," Celeborn called. The two hobbits trudged in, embarrassed at being caught, but Pippin's face brightened when he saw Celephel.  
  
"Oh, hello again," He said cheerily.  
  
"Peregrin," She nodded.  
  
"You know each other?" Boromir finally snapped out of his admiring trance. The Lady Celephel had fascinated him.  
  
"Celephel helped me out of a jam a few years back, when Merry and I were—um, visiting Farmer Maggot," Pippin shrugged, "I never really though t that I'd see her again."  
  
Celeborn turned a disapproving eye to Celephel, who turned red, if such a thing were possible. Gimli broke out into booming laughter.  
  
"I would wager that I am the first dwarf to ever see an elf blush to the tip of her ears!" He laughed, and Boromir barely caught himself about to do the same.  
  
"We must set out tonight," Aragorn said grimly, "The hobbits will stay here."  
  
"What?" Merry and Pippin cried at once. They didn't want to be left behind anywhere, even in Lothlórien.  
  
"Young ones, come here," Galadriel beckoned them to approach her seat. As she proceeded to tell them what had happened, Merry's face turned dark with thought and Pippin's grew white with dismay.  
  
Merry spoke first, after Galadriel had finished.  
  
"We will stay," Pippin stared as if Merry had just told him that they were never going to eat again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Frodo needs us here," He bit his lip and looked at Aragorn, "He needs to stay here, and if we don't stay too, he'll worry. Sam, too."  
  
Pippin sighed and headed towards the door, "Then I don't want to hear any more. Or else I'll have to tie myself up in order to keep myself here."  
  
Merry quickly bid Aragorn and the others goodbye and followed his cousin. A great quiet fell over the room.  
  
Gimli stood quietly beside Aragorn, while Boromir sat, perturbed. Celephel and Haldir held their own quiet council in the corner of the room.  
  
Celeborn spoke up, "You will need to leave as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. I fear for my kin's life."  
  
"Tomorrow morning it is," Aragorn nodded, agreeing with the Elven Lord's assessment, "I will tell Frodo."  
  
"Aha! Orc hunting!" Gimli roared happily.  
  
Legolas sat quietly in the corner of the cave cell, his wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from the chafing shackles. There was really no where to go for him, and he knew it all too well.  
  
The injury in his back had turned a fiery red and swelled. Saruman had treated it as well as he had wanted to, leaving him with pain at every breath.  
  
His tunic had been torn and stained by the blood of the arrow. Past that, the light blue elven material was bright, standing as dim beacon in the darkness of the cell.  
  
He sighed, then held his breath, waiting for the fire to ebb in his wound. Through this, the son of Thranduil showed no emotion in his face, or his eyes, only in his mind, which was racing with thoughts.  
  
It has been only a short while, He reasoned, They will not mount a search until the morning, even if they know where I am, it will take them at least until then.  
  
With these comforting thoughts, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The pain attacked once again, leaving him with closed eyes. He dreaded what the wizard Saruman might do, to him, to his friends, to the Fellowship…  
  
"Legolas!" The taunting call of Saruman sickened him, "Come."  
  
The cell door opened, though there was no one there to open it. Legolas, unable to control his own legs, stood and walked through the cell door. He came face to face with Saruman in his throne room before he was under his own control again.  
  
"What do you want with me?" Legolas asked, each word sending burning, tingling pain through his back and lungs.  
  
"I want you to serve me," Saruman said bluntly.  
  
Legolas looked at him, concerned at his words.  
  
"As a true prince of power, not only as a prince of a forest," Saruman smiled grandfatherly, "You would serve me, lead my armies, and then, if I pass on, you would become my heir."  
  
"Why are you offering this to me, an elf?" Legolas demanded, "Why not entice a Man, or Dwarf? Why me?"  
  
"Because you are the one that I can use to destroy the Fellowship," Saruman suddenly turned serious and easily angered, "Through your servitude, I will destroy them. Through your death, I will destroy them."  
  
Legolas looked away. He would not betray his friends.  
  
"Your answer then?" Before Legolas could say anything, the wound in his back became fresh again, the agony of the arrow wound pouring through his body once again. His lack of a cry of pain angered Saruman.  
  
"I will give you the same choice that I gave Gandalf," He snarled, "I hope that you will be smarter than that old fool."  
  
Legolas clutched his chest, and his palm closed over the small pendant that the Lady Galadriel had given him before he left on his ride. He remembered it as being small, made of ornately woven silver.  
  
"Hah!" Saruman's staff swung, and Legolas was thrown against the wall. His cry of surprise and pain brought a smile to the evil wizard's face.  
  
Another swing and Legolas was slammed into the floor. He couldn't stand this much longer…  
  
Legolas tried to rise, but he fell back to the cold ground, his elfin cheek pressed against the black stone. Across the floor, hidden in the corner, was the tiny body of a dead moth.  
  
Suddenly, the elven prince was back in the dungeons of Isengard, though not in his cell. Chains around his wrists and ankles held him between two pillars. Slimy, slobbering orcs glanced at him, licking their lips in anticipation of a taste of elven flesh.  
  
In front of him, across the arena-like room, stood Saruman, holding his staff in one hand, and a delicately balanced dagger in the other. His fingers traced the elegant engravings on the blade.  
  
"This is the dagger that took the life of Isildur's general, at the skirmish where Isildur himself was slain," Saruman dropped the dagger almost casually, but his powers held it suspended in the air.  
  
The blade flew through the air.  
  
Legolas barely moved when the blade hit him. His face was solid and he was unwilling to reveal the pain that he felt both in his physical body and his emotional heart.  
  
The cursed metal had struck him hard in the right side, opening his side. Blood poured down his leg and pooled on the floor.  
  
For the next few hours, Legolas withstood as much of the beatings as he could. Only once did his legs fail him, when the blade came almost too close to his throat.  
  
Eventually, Saruman became wearied with his sport and left the room. The orcs had long since gathered to watch the torture. Now, they murmured among themselves, disappointed that there would be no more torment for the elf.  
  
Legolas just existed, barely able to breathe. He knew that the oldest wound, the one in his back, opened into his lung. Saruman had purposely avoided healing the arrow gouge, keeping the elf short of breath at all times.  
  
The other blade wounds had been aimed to incapacitate him as much as possible. His right leg was useless, as was his left arm. Even if he did escape the shackles and chains, he would be totally unable to creep past the gates without being seen, or, more disturbingly, smelt.  
  
Why does he want me here? Legolas forced thoughts through a pain fogged mind, He doesn't want to offer me riches or power. He wants to trap Aragorn and the others.  
  
And he would die before he allowed any preventable harm to come against the Fellowship. He would give up his life for any of them, even Pippin or Gimli.  
  
He groaned softly and raised himself up to a standing position. His leg protested painfully, but he bit back the pain. If only he could reach the pendant…  
  
The chains held his wrists too far away. That wouldn't work. Somehow, he had to break the tiny vial inside the silver weavings.  
  
When the orcs began to twitter again and Saruman re-entered the room, he knew that he would have to try again later.  
  
"Celephel, Haldir, what do you see?" Aragorn asked, holding the reigns to his horse steady.  
  
"I see a group of ten Uruk-Hai approaching us from the left, where we should be heading," Haldir stated. They had been forced to weave around the orc patrols for all morning.  
  
"That stand of trees should give us ample protection," Celephel said, gesturing to a nearby group of large trees. Off to the far left, the tower of Isengard stood, black and foreboding.  
  
"Then that is where we shall go," Aragorn spurred on his horse. Gimli, who was the only one of the group that couldn't ride, had been forced to hold tightly to his horse's neck until he felt like he could sit up straight. Now he just grumbled.  
  
"Walking would have been so much easier," He said to himself, under his breath.  
  
Celephel followed them, but she began to lag behind, eventually riding beside Boromir. They exchanged nervous smiles, then returned to silence.  
  
"Son of Denethor, how is it that you are here? Have you not enough adventure in Gondor?" She finally said. Her hand moved to smooth out her beige and green rider's clothing.  
  
"Blood and death is tiring over the days," He responded, sitting up a little straighter, "And you, an elven lady, a traveler, and a scout? How dies this happen?"  
  
Celephel sighed, "Many years. I have had many chances to pass through the Gray Havens, but I fear that will never pass to the other side. Too many things remain unresolved."  
  
"Such as?" Boromir winced as she looked at him with a slightly surprised look.  
  
"A prophecy was told over me, saying that I would go though the Havens after my true love had been found and lost," She shook her head, "I am baring my soul to you, Boromir, son of Gondor, as no elven woman has ever done to a human man. I hope you will keep our talk private."  
  
"I shall," He nodded and spurred his horse, "Come, the stand is not far, and the patrol gains ground quickly." Celephel looked around the fields and saw the unwary patrol approaching steadily.  
  
Suddenly, as soon as her eye had spied a figure on the top of the tower, she was flying through the air. A painful force caught her in the side and threw her off her horse.  
  
All the other horse went wild. Boromir tried to calm his steed down, but to no avail. He barely caught a glimpse of Celephel before she was caught under the wild hooves of Gimli's horse.  
  
"No!" He pushed himself off of his horse. He threw his shield in front of him, forcing Gimli's frightened horse to move away. He knelt over Celephel, his shield up for protection.  
  
The others quickly abandoned their horses, fearing for their own lives. The steeds ran as if mad, disappearing far into the forests.  
  
Boromir leaned over Celephel and sighed in relief when he saw that the horse's hoof had caught her only on the side of the head. She was quickly reviving.  
  
While Boromir attended the woman elf, Aragorn and Haldir tried to make out the uppermost level of the Isengard tower. With his elven eyes, Haldir was able to confirm that Saruman, indeed, stood there, his staff ready and his eyes locked on them.  
  
"He knows we are here. And he knows why we come," Haldir said softly, "I see also another figure, standing tall on his right side."  
  
"What does it mean?" Aragorn asked himself out loud.  
  
"I fear that Legolas Greenleaf has betrayed us," The elven guard shook his head, "But I shall not believe it. Not unless you command the return to Lothlórien."  
  
"No, we will go on, and rescue him," Aragorn picked up his fallen baggage, which he had barely been able to loosen from his horse's saddle, "If Saruman has cast a spell on his mind, then I will break that spell."  
  
By that time, Celephel and Gimli, who had been tossed from his horse, were on their feet and eager to be on their way. Haldir led them all to the stand of trees, where there stood a small ruin.  
  
"The Isengard watchtower," Celephel murmured, "I remember when its height was unrivaled in all of Middle Earth."  
  
"No more, my lady," Gimli grumbled, "It has long since fallen under the ravages of Saruman and his Uruk-Hai."  
  
The dwarf fairly spit the last few words from his mouth as he followed the quiet Haldir around the ruins. He led them all to a small trap door, whose wooden lid had long since rotted.  
  
"The secret passage! Haldir, we cannot take this way!" Celephel cried upon seeing the brand burnt into the stone above the man-sized abyss, "It will take us into the center of his dungeons."  
  
"Is that not where Legolas will be?" Boromir asked, hefting his shield on his back.  
  
"If luck is with him, then, no, he would be in the prison with no walls, the very highest tier of Isengard, where Gandalf himself was held," She shrank back from the trapdoor, "If he stands at the end of this tunnel, then all we have done is for naught."  
  
"We have no choice," Haldir reasoned, "From the dungeons we can find our way to the tier. You know your way around Isengard, Celephel. You were there before Saruman ever was."  
  
"This I know, but my heart still dreads the path I must take," She held back quietly as the others descended the stone steps before her. Boromir was the last to enter the blackness.  
  
When she hesitated, he ascended the steps to the half point, "Come, my lady, the way is safe."  
  
Aragorn watched him take the hand of the elven woman and lead her carefully down the stairs. He sighed, "Boromir does not know, or does not want to know, that the Lady Celephel is perhaps ten times his age."  
  
"The Lady has always had a childlike heart, for in her mind, she has never really grown old," Haldir responded quietly, "She may hold the same age as Lord Celeborn, but her mind is like that of the hobbits, innocent, yet sharp when it is required."  
  
"I also fear that he will fall in love with her," Aragorn used a flint and stone to light a torch on the side of the tunnel. However, it was old, rotten wood, and burnt dimly.  
  
"He may, at least," Haldir pulled a new torch from his pack and lit it so it burnt brightly. From behind them, a white glow illuminated the way more brightly, as it was a magic glow from a crystal in Celephel's palm.  
  
They walked in silence for the next few minutes, the dim, bright, and magical glows mingling with the darkness and waltzing with the shadows. Soon, the stone turned to dirt, then back to stone again after a few more moments.  
  
Suddenly, the magical glow of Celephel's crystal was doused in a brilliant explosion of light. Her muted cry of surprise was quickly replaced by a groan of disbelief.  
  
"He knows which path we have chosen," Aragorn said quietly, waving the torch around the tunnel. His fist lashed out and smashed a small scrying crystal that was inlaid in the wall.  
  
Haldir handed his torch over to Boromir then withdrew his bow and arrows. The rest unsheathed their swords. Celephel took the torch from Boromir so his hands would be free.  
  
They advanced quickly and quietly, unwilling to lag, and soon came to another badly rotted trapdoor.  
  
Celephel shook her head, "From this point on, I shall go no further."  
  
"What? You are the only one of us who has been inside Isengard before," Aragorn turned, almost angrily, "You cannot stay behind."  
  
"I can stay and I will," She stood adamantly, the torch in her hand flaring momentarily.  
  
Boromir looked from Aragorn to the elf, and back, "You are holding us back." He walked over to her and snatched the torch from her hand. Then, to the mixed responses of horror and amusement, he swept her up over his shoulder.  
  
After he carried her up the trapdoor stairs after Aragorn, she still struggled, but to a lesser extent. Once her booted foot had caught Boromir in the stomach, he was forced to put her down.  
  
She pulled back her fist and caught him full in the chin, "The next time any of you so much as touches me, I promise, I will kill you."  
  
"Since you have made it this far, my lady, you might as well accompany us to the end," Boromir rubbed his jaw, "Or shall we fight more?"  
  
Celephel grumbled something unintelligible in Elvish and took her torch from Boromir. She began to lead them through the black, dank passageways with a curious glance to either side.  
  
She paused for a second at a shattered door.  
  
"What is it?" Aragorn demanded.  
  
"That marking is familiar," She mumbled, tracing the evil carving, "It says, 'Here the Treerunner rests.' Strange."  
  
They continued on their way, never stopping until they came to a dead end. Celephel quickly opened a secret passage and everyone ducked out of sight.  
  
"Beyond now, I am of no use," Celephel crossed her arms.  
  
Aragorn continued further down the passage until they came to a long, thin opening that was just wide enough for them to see down. They were looking into the throne room of Saruman.  
  
There was no one there.  
  
"They are above, on the tower top," Haldir said, "I see no—"  
  
One pair of doors exploded open. Legolas, the elven prince of Mirkwood, picked himself painfully off the floor. Saruman shook his head pityingly.  
  
"I fear that you will be no more sport than the other so-called royal elf," Saruman gritted his teeth and sent Legolas back to the wall, "She lasted seven years in my torture chambers."  
  
Gimli was on the verge of growling an angry retort when Haldir slapped a hand over his mouth. The dwarf glared angrily, but didn't struggle.  
  
Saruman continued taunting the elven prince, who simply stood there. No emotion showed on his fair face. This enraged Saruman even more. He intensified the beatings.  
  
Eventually, Legolas was lying on the floor of the throne room, blood pooling around his head and his eyes closed.  
  
Saruman growled angrily and stalked out of the room.  
  
Haldir was the first to squeeze through the viewing window. Aragorn followed, but Boromir and Gimli were two stocky to fit through. Celephel led them quickly away, trying to find a different route to the throne room.  
  
Haldir and Aragorn climbed carefully down to the throne room floor. Legolas was nearly dead…  
  
"And I trap two more flies in my web—" Saruman stepped out of his hiding place. Uruk-Hai burst in the doors around them. Celephel, Boromir, and Gimli burst in the door, unwittingly giving them the surprise they needed.  
  
Legolas was on his feet in an instant, his arm wrapped around Saruman's throat.  
  
It was a stand-off. 


	2. Betrayed!

Legolas' eyes blurred with pain. This was taking too much energy…he had lost too much blood…  
  
Saruman whirled and smashed his staff into Legolas' face. The elven prince crumpled in agony as his cheekbone shattered. Through pain-blinded ears, he heard an angry outburst from the dwarf…the dwarf…the dwarf…  
  
The elven prince realized that he could not remember his friend's name! The only name that surfaced was Saruman…  
  
"You'll pay for that!" The short being leapt forward and was dragged backwards by a woman. Her ears were covered by hair, on purpose, so as to hide them…  
  
"No, Gimli!" Aragorn commanded. Yes, that is his name. Aragorn. The other human…Boromir…  
  
Legolas struggled to keep his hold on consciousness. Every breath he took shot arrows of fire through his chest and through his back, as the wound opened there. Saruman reached down and placed his arm underneath the elf's arm, helping him to his feet.  
  
"Thank you, my young prince," Saruman turned to the others and smiled evilly, "My plan has certainly worked batter with two spiders to catch the flies."  
  
The orcs surged forward. Boromir and Gimli turned to run out the door, but two orcs blocked their way. Gimli rushed them, breaking through. The human warrior dove at them, confusing them as the dwarf escaped.  
  
Aragorn and the others were easily taken. Boromir was subdued with a jaw rattling smack to the back of the head. He collapsed unconscious onto the floor.  
  
"Legolas! How could you do this to us!" Aragorn cried angrily, pulling at his captor's grip. His face was flushed with rage, "I tried to believe that you would not do this to us! I told myself that you would never betray!"  
  
Legolas merely looked at the ground, at Boromir's fallen form, then up at Saruman.  
  
"Answer him, Prince," Saruman smiled grandfatherly at him, "Tell him about your becoming my son, about the great rewards that await you."  
  
"You are already a prince!" Aragorn snarled.  
  
"A prince of a tiny copse of trees," Saruman snapped at him, "I have given him true power! Show them, my son! Show them the powers that have become yours!"  
  
The elven prince slowly raised his hands to shoulder level, his head still bowed. A lancet of energy leapt between his fingers and exploded outward, engulfing Haldir's form. The Lothlórien guard stiffened then cried out in pain.  
  
"Stop it!" Celephel cried, "No more pain! Stop it!"  
  
"Ah, the Treerunner's partner in crime," Saruman smirked over the crackling of energy.  
  
Haldir fell to his knees, clutching his chest in pain. The energy disappeared back into Legolas' hands, which returned to his sides, limp. Saruman nodded and chuckled in satisfaction.  
  
"Now, my son, take them to the dungeon, where you yourself were held until adoption into my family," Saruman chuckled as he sat on his dark throne. The orcs that held the captives followed Legolas out of the room.  
  
The elf had picked Boromir's body up and had thrown him over his shoulder, almost carefully. It seemed like ages before the captives were thrown into the cell, the dank and dinginess of the room depressing.  
  
Legolas sat in a chair, turned slightly away from them, facing a table. His hands lay limply on the dark wood.  
  
"He did betray us," Aragorn grumbled, disbelieving, "Did anyone see what happened to Gimli?"  
  
"He escaped, from what I could see," Celephel said quietly, with Boromir's head in her lap. She was gently brushing the hairs from his forehead. Haldir stood, leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath.  
  
"Let me talk to him," Celephel gently laid Boromir's head on the ground, and stood, "He is confused, his mind may not be his own."  
  
Aragorn looked at her, then nodded, "But I will speak with him as well. This is not a slight matter."  
  
Legolas heard their speaking, but did not move. He just seemed to stare at his hands.  
  
"Legolas?" Celephel said softly, "Legolas, will you speak to me?"  
  
"There is nothing to speak about," He responded icily.  
  
"Tell me why you did it," She grasped the metal bars of their cage, "Please. Do that much."  
  
Legolas refused to speak for a moment. Then he drew his hands shakily from the table and buried his face in them, "I did it to save my father."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Saruman was going to kill my father, my brothers," Legolas drew a shaky breath, "I do this to save the dwellers of Mirkwood. The Quest may still go on. But I cannot risk an entire culture's future on just a handful of lives!"  
  
"A handful of friends!"  
  
Gimli, red-faced and filled with a pure rage, stood in the door and brandished his axe, "You are no friend of mine, elf! You are deceitful and evil! I spit on you! You are no more than the orcs I kill in the name of freedom!"  
  
"What do you know!" Legolas clenched his fists angrily.  
  
"You are my enemy!" Gimli cried a loud war whoop and charged. Before the elf could respond, the adrenaline fueled dwarf slammed into him, smashing him up against a broken cell door. He slumped to the ground in a daze.  
  
The torn tunic he wore finally tore off, revealing his back. Gimli yelled again and hit him with the side of his axe, knocking him to the floor.  
  
"Gimli! Stop!" Celephel cried, "His back!"  
  
There was a large cut, fiery red and blackish-purple, that seemed to suck with every breath the elf took. Aragorn recognized that kind of wound.  
  
"It opens into his lung," Aragorn said softly, "If he is not healed soon, that lung will collapse."  
  
Gimli looked at the fallen form of his former friend and spit, barely missing the elvish boot. He went to the cell and smashed the lock. Celephel went to Boromir as he hacked at the metal and attempted to rouse him.  
  
"Boromir, we are escaping," She shook him gently.  
  
He groaned and opened his eyes gently, "Am I dead?"  
  
"No," She smiled, "Arise."  
  
As soon as the door was opened, Aragorn stood over Legolas, who had raised himself to his elbows, still in pain.  
  
"Come, Aragorn," Haldir stood behind him, "We must flee while we still can."  
  
"And condemn him to death?" He looked down, pityingly.  
  
"He would have done it to us," Gimli growled.  
  
Boromir looked around, confused, "Why are you not helping him? Is he not the reason we risked out lives? Why do you simply look at him?"  
  
"He has betrayed us," Celephel whispered.  
  
Aragorn watched for a few more seconds. Then he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. His head shook, "I cannot do it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I cannot leave him to die," Aragorn knelt besides the shaking elf, whose body trembled with tears, "He betrayed us out of love for his family…"  
  
"That is what you think!" Legolas spun up and wrapped his hand around Aragorn's neck, "Anyone tries to attack me, I'll break his neck."  
  
"Legolas, why do you do this? He is trying to help you!" Celephel cried.  
  
"I serve one and only one. That one is Sauron," An evil smile crept across the elf's face, twisting it into an unnatural sneer as he stood, "The one you know as Legolas is dead, killed by your stupidity!"  
  
They froze, waiting for him.  
  
"As this body laid on the ground in that throne room, I came through the Palantir and took it as my own," The blue elvish eyes flared up with fire. They then diminished into the evil forms of the Great Eye, "This is my body now, and I will use it to take what is mine!"  
  
"Sauron!" Haldir gasped.  
  
"That old fool thinks that he gave me these powers, that I am his creation!" Sauron/Legolas laughed, "He is mine!"  
  
Aragorn struggled to breathe against the crushing strength in the hand that crushed his throat. Sauron/Legolas looked at him and grinned evilly. With a simple toss, he sent Aragorn flying into the black stone wall.  
  
"Now I have all of you in one place," He sneered. The doors all slammed shut.  
  
"The wound in his back," Celephel whispered to Boromir, "The pain…it will disrupt Sauron's hold on Legolas."  
  
"Ah, yes, one of the Elven Bearers of a Dwarven Ring," Sauron laughed evilly as Aragorn picked himself off the floor, "Your wisdom is impressive, but how will you come close enough to try out your theory?"  
  
Celephel said nothing. She just shrank back.  
  
"Get back in the cell!" Sauron/Legolas commanded, snatching the axe out of Gimli's grip, "I will command the armies of Orthanc through Saruman, and I will have weakened the opposition by capturing the prince of Gondor, the prince of Mirkwood, and the Dwarven Ringbearer."  
  
The lock was smashed, but with a tight grip, the metal liquefied and reformed into an evil looking skull with devilish horns. Sauron/Legolas laughed and turned back to sit in the wooden chair.  
  
Three days later, there had still been no chance at escape. Because Sauron controlled an elven body, he had patience enough to wait for whatever might happen next.  
  
Boromir sighed and picked at the chain mail he wore. Celephel noticed his discomfort.  
  
"Son of Gondor, why do you not relax, as the others have done?" Her hand rested on his elbow, "It can do no more harm than good."  
  
"I do not wish to relax," He grumbled.  
  
"Then at least drink something," She sighed, "You do not drink unless it is the meal, and a warrior needs water to survive."  
  
"You call that water?" He snorted and gestured to the bucket of stagnant water.  
  
Celephel stood and dipped her hand into the mucky liquid. At first, her hand came out brackish and dirty, but soon, the scent of fresh running water filled the room, much the same smell that came after a fresh, renewing rain.  
  
She brought the ladle over to Boromir, "Drink. I must rest. Without sunlight, even the simplest things drain the life out of me."  
  
He took the ladle gently and watched her stumble over to a stone slab that was supposed to serve as a bed. Once she had lain down, she slept, even though her eyes never closed, as it was whenever elves slept.  
  
Boromir savored the taste of the sweet tasting water. He quickly passed the ladle to Aragorn, who took a sip, then drew back, surprised.  
  
"It tastes like fresh rainwater."  
  
A few more hours passed.  
  
Suddenly, Haldir straightened. He thought that he had seen two small forms dash by the dungeon entrance. Yes, there they were.  
  
It was Merry and Pippin.  
  
They each held a finger to their lips, telling him to be silent. He made no move, just simply glanced down at the floor. With a quick hand movement, he signaled to Aragorn to look. When the human warrior saw the hobbits, he deflated, as if nothing else could go wrong.  
  
The hobbits' wide grins faltered and they looked at each other. They probably thought that they would be happy to see them.  
  
Suddenly, Sauron/Legolas stood from his chair.  
  
"Sauron!" Aragorn called, keeping his attention from the door.  
  
"What is it, human?" Sauron/Legolas sighed.  
  
"How is your back? The injury?" He smiled cockily, "Do you feel it? Like Legolas would? Do you feel your lung collapsing?"  
  
Sauron/Legolas snorted, "His lung collapsed yesterday morning. I need no breath. Only a body to carry my spirit."  
  
"If only pain can bring our friend back, so be it," Aragorn glared.  
  
The being that mixed pure good with pure evil laughed. His laughter was deep and devilish, but it still had a tinge of elven song in it. Aragorn knew that Legolas was still alive in there, somewhere.  
  
Suddenly, Sauron/Legolas roared in pain as a large rock smashed into his back. Pippin pumped his fist into the air in victory then went pale as his target spun.  
  
"YOU!"  
  
Lancets of energy poured between his hands as he prepared to attack the defenseless hobbits.  
  
"No!" Without thinking, Aragorn snatched a broken fragment from the remnants of the cell beside them. He threw it with all his might.  
  
The energy disappeared.  
  
So did the fiery red eyes.  
  
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, I will destroy you!" Sauron cried as the spirit fled Legolas' body.  
  
The fragment protruded from the elf's neck…  
  
Suddenly released, Legolas fell against the wall, gasping for breath. His face was a mask of horror and pain as he felt the metal in the back of his neck.  
  
"Merry! Pippin! Quickly!" The two hobbits took Gimli's axe and swung at Sauron's lock. It shattered like glass, for his power was gone from it. For the second time in this horrible nightmare, Aragorn stepped out of the cell.  
  
He stood over the elf. How could I be sure that this is not another trick?  
  
Legolas was leaning against the wall, his body shaking with unshed tears and wracked with pain. But he did not ask for help.  
  
He did not say a word as he struggled to breathe.  
  
Finally, Aragorn dove forward and gently took a hold of the fragment. The elf's eyes were clouded over, and he did not even cry out as the fragment slipped from his neck. His body slowly stopped shaking as Aragorn worked frantically to staunch the blood flow.  
  
"Celephel! I need fabric!"  
  
After a moment of hesitation, Celephel took her over-tunic off and handed it to the heir of Gondor. Boromir did a double take as he realized that the elven woman wore a tunic that wrapped around her body, leaving her well- toned stomach bare.  
  
Celephel turned red and smacked the human in the chest to bring him back to the present.  
  
Aragorn folded the tunic and pressed it hard against the wound. This elf had already lost too much blood. If he lost any more, he would be dead sooner than later.  
  
"The orcs are coming!" Merry cried.  
  
"We must go!" Gimli growled, hefting his axe.  
  
"Look what I found!" Pippin smiled widely, dragging a large bag out of a closet. Haldir opened it and quickly handed out weapons and packs to their owners. Pippin stood there, as if waiting, as Haldir finished emptying the sack.  
  
"Thank you, little halfling," He smiled slightly and ruffled Pippin's hair.  
  
"We must go!" Merry called again. Boromir held Celephel's quiver onto her back as she buckled it. Aragorn buckled his sword onto his belt with one hand, but he kept pressure on Legolas' wound.  
  
"Aragorn, we must leave," Haldir rested his hand on his shoulder, "He is gone. He breathes no more."  
  
"NO! After all that we have gone through, all that HE has gone through!" Aragorn refused to believe. In anger, he held his hand hovering in front of Legolas' mouth and nose. Nothing tickled his hand.  
  
"NO!" In rage, Aragorn dropped the tunic, "This was my doing! First we lose Gandalf, wisest of the Maiar, now we lose the Prince of Mirkwood! Who shall be next to fall?"  
  
"We must go!"  
  
They fled, each casting one last glance at the still body of Legolas that lay quietly against the wall. Pippin did not want to leave, but Haldir's strong hand on his collar kept him in pace with the others as they ran down the halls.  
  
"Here!" Celephel cried.  
  
They ducked into a familiar room, and the trapdoor stood open, waiting for them.  
  
"Stop, something doesn't feel right," Gimli commanded, "The stones groan under weight. There is ambush!"  
  
Orcs dove out of the tunnel. They came in such numbers that they were quickly dispatched, but more and more came, tiring the warriors. Boromir's sword never wavered, though, and Gimli's axe never stopped singing through the air.  
  
Aragorn managed to slip through the skirmish, into the trapdoor. Merry and Pippin followed closely. They ran down the long tunnel then paused, waiting for more of their friends.  
  
Celephel dove—or fell—through the hole and rolled. Boromir jumped down and helped her stand. They ran past the others, taking Merry and Pippin with them. Gimli was the next to escape down the hole.  
  
"Haldir!" Aragorn gasped.  
  
Red blood flowed over the edge of the hole, dripping into a small puddle on the floor of the tunnel. It was all Aragorn could do to keep himself from crying out in rage. Another lost…  
  
Aragorn stumbled into the sunlight, tears staining his cheeks. The others were also crying or sitting in total silence.  
  
"We failed," Gimli grumbled, "The elf betrayer is lost to us, Haldir, a great warrior, has fallen also—"  
  
"Did you see his eyes before he died, Gimli?" Celephel said quietly.  
  
"Haldir?"  
  
"No, Legolas," She held her arms tightly to her, "His eyes…they were filled with grief, pain, horror at what he had been forced to do…He was himself when he died. He was not Sauron."  
  
Boromir grasped her shoulders. Instead of turning around and shoving him away, like she would have done, she accepted his reassuring grip.  
  
"They might not be dead, you know," Pippin spoke up.  
  
Everyone looked at him.  
  
"How do you figure that, Pip?" Merry asked, picking at a piece of grass.  
  
"Well, they could have used that one escape route that we found," The reddish-brown haired halfling shrugged, "It was not that far, and it was a lot shorter."  
  
Suddenly, the pounding of hooves approached and surrounded the Watchtower of Orthanc. Celeborn himself stepped through the trees, flanked by two guards. Without words, the survivors were lead to their horses.  
  
It had been two days.  
  
Frodo and Sam nearly fell apart when they heard of Legolas' death. Haldir's two brothers were still grieving over the loss of their eldest.  
  
Aragorn was walking the great trails of Lothlórien for the last time. They planned to leave the next morning, for they could delay no longer. As he approached a calm pond, a small lily on the surface lit up with the brilliance of a lightning bug.  
  
"Such is his life," Galadriel's voice came from behind him, "Legolas was a light to all of us."  
  
"Your kin, was he not?" Aragorn sat down at the edge as the lightning bug few off.  
  
"Yes, he is," She nodded as she sat beside him.  
  
"Is?"  
  
"Is," She affirmed.  
  
"He is alive?" Aragorn's voice was tinged with excitement.  
  
"He and Haldir were both found, alive but injured, just outside the borders of Lothlórien," She looked at the lily, "They are both healing quickly. My lord Celeborn heals their injuries even as we speak."  
  
Aragorn did not know what to say.  
  
"Legolas will be able to rejoin the Fellowship, for it is the quest that runs through his mind constantly," She looked over at him, "Sauron has left no mark on him. Legolas remembers not what was said, only what happened physically. He remembers that he could not control his own body since Saruman struck him down in the throne room."  
  
"Then the Fellowship will go on."  
  
Aragorn laughed as he spoke those words, "The Fellowship…"  
  
"Stands on the edge of a knife," Galadriel warned as she stood, "Stray but a little, and it will fail. I must warn you of a danger, dear Ranger, future King. The power and influence of Sauron does not need a Palantir to travel."  
  
With this warning ringing in his ears, Aragorn stood and ran…ran to find his friends and tell them of the greatness that had befallen them.  
  
Gimli was torn.  
  
He wanted to trust the elf. They had begun to create a friendship, then Saruman had destroyed everything.  
  
Now he did not know whom to trust.  
  
The two guards on either side of Legolas' door allowed him to enter, and closed the door behind him.  
  
Legolas lay on the bed, the bandages around his chest visible under the white shirt he wore. A bruise was still visible on his cheek, where Saruman had shattered his cheekbone, but there was no difference from before this whole fiasco.  
  
"Gimli?" Legolas blinked and tried to sit up, but the dwarf's glare ended that idea.  
  
"I—I came to apologize for what I said," The dwarf pulled a chair close to the bed side and sagged into it, "I do not believe you to be a betrayer any longer."  
  
"I cannot remember what was said," the elf shook his head, "I could hear nothing but my own breathing. It became very disconcerting."  
  
"Disconcerting?!" Gimli exploded, "Is that what you call it?"  
  
"Uncomfortable?"  
  
"Of all the ways—" The dwarf flustered for a moment before the laugh finally escaped Legolas' lips.  
  
Legolas laughed, and the sound was like water to a thirsty man.  
  
"You are easily teased, Master Dwarf," The elf chuckled, then groaned slightly as the residual pain seemed to well up slightly. Celeborn had not been able to heal all the bruising, but at least there was no bleeding, cuts, or breaks.  
  
"And you have air between your pointed ears, through and through!" Gimli chuckled, "I came to apologize and end up insulting you. I should leave you to your healing."  
  
He stood and made to go to the door, then turned back, "Heal well, Dwarf- Friend. And…Namarié?"  
  
"Aye, my friend," Legolas smiled. Just as Gimli disappeared through the door, he called, "But you speak it with an accent, and you use your nose too much."  
  
The dwarf's growl of annoyance was enough to send Legolas laughing again.  
  
And all was well. 


	3. Loved...

"Boromir?"

The human warrior turned from polishing his sword. There stood Celephel, dressed in a new over-tunic. She looked sad, as if she just lost her best friend, "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course, milady," He moved his things off the log so she could sit down. He remained standing as she sank onto the wood, "Is something wrong?"

"I wanted to talk to you…about…my prophecy," Celephel sighed, "I did not tell you the whole truth."

Boromir looked into her eyes. What he saw was sadness and loss. It unnerved him to see such things in his new found friend's eyes. He knelt in front of her, covering her hands with his.

What he felt for her…it was something akin to pure happiness, or perhaps it was beyond it. What she felt for him…he did not know in the slightest. All he knew was that he felt something for her that he had never felt for anyone else.

"Tell me," He said quietly.

She looked down at their hands, "The prophecy was about my love, but it was much more descriptive:

_When the Seasinger falls,_

_There will be one there when she calls._

_A human, his hair a burnished brown,_

_His brow perfect and fit to hold a crown.___

_Selfless and valiant is he,_

_Sacrificing his life when need be._

_He is a warrior, and son of Gondor,_

_But he shall fall to the One Ring of lore."_

Boromir listened to the prophecy is morbid fascination. Could it possibly be about him…?

"I am hesitant to tell you of this, for I know not what you feel for me," Celephel sighed, "All I know is that I feel a deep passion for you…"

She raised a hand and felt his cheek with the back of her hand. He raised his own and took hers in his strong grip. She felt the same way about him that he felt about her…it was a match made before the foundations of Middle-Earth were laid!

"And I you, though it feels strange to say," Boromir's eyes brightened, and he chuckled, "I never thought that I would fall so completely in love with an elf. I always thought such beauty was out of my reach."

"Boromir, we are ready to leave…" Aragorn stepped around a corner and saw the human warrior kneeling before the elven woman. He turned red, "Come when you are able."

Celephel and Boromir exchanged looks, the realized how strange they must look. Aragorn quickly ducked away, to tell the others, no doubt.

"We should retire to the docks before they begin a rumor," Celephel sighed.

"He said for me to come when I am able," Boromir stood up. When the elven woman followed his lead, he took her around the waist and tipped her to the side. She was surprised, but not nearly as much as his kiss did.

The kiss lasted for as long as they could hold their breath. When they finally broke apart, Boromir looked down at the beauty that he held in his arms, and with a gloved hand, he brushed a hair from her face.

"The others are waiting for you," She said breathlessly.

"Let them wait," Boromir kissed her again.

A few minutes later, Celephel wore Boromir's ring, the same one that his mother had been given when she married his father. It sealed their love, promising themselves to each other for the rest of eternity.

They stood together on the docks. There were many eyes watching them, but neither cared.

Celephel raised her hand to his cheek, "Come back to me."

"I will return to you, I promise," His hands rested on her waist while she twirled a little piece of his hair absentmindedly.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," She whispered, "I fear that you will never return. The prophecy spoke of the One Ring, and your failure. I cannot understand it…"

Boromir leaned forward and kissed her, "Celephel, I have given my life to you as your own. I will not leave you willingly, and even death cannot last forever. We will meet again, and then, we will celebrate our marriage in the Halls of Minas Tirith."

He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, but she released him to go. He carefully turned away and climbed into the waiting boat.

"Celephel?" Galadriel stepped into the elven woman's room. Her young friend had just been told of the death of Boromir, the one whose ring she now wore. As the beautiful elf looked around the room, she could see no sign of Celephel.

Then she saw the note.

_My Lady Galadriel,_

_I have chosen to return to the __Forest__ of __Rain__, for there is nothing left in Middle Earth for me. I apologize for leaving so abruptly. I will most likely stay forever in my home, waiting for him._

_Thank you for all your generosity. Please extend my thanks to Lord Celeborn, and my deepest sympathies to the friends of my love._

_Goodbye._

_Celephel Seasinger_

It was then that Galadriel knew that the Seasinger would never love another.


End file.
